


Tandem

by salamandelbrot



Category: NXT, Professional Wrestling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 16:06:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5423375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salamandelbrot/pseuds/salamandelbrot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dispirited in the face of the unwarrented, unjust, and frankly reprehensible hostility of an NXT Universe with entirely too harsh a view on cheating and a woefully insufficient appreciation for the fine arts, Aiden English finds solace and sympathy in a fellow gentleman grappler.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tandem

**Author's Note:**

  * For [doingwords](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doingwords/gifts).



It was in the June of his twenty seventh year that the course of Aiden English's heretofore solitary life was indelibly altered. Spring had been a harsh awakening for the artiste. The fickle fools who called themselves the "NXT Universe" had turned their favor elsewhere. Where once they threw roses and begged for encores, now they jeered him. He had, of course, heard similar stories from lesser actors but, in the optimism of his youth, he had never truly credited their accounts of such horrors. Whole audiences who, as though as one possessed by a spirit of perversity, would boo the sublime and cheer the ridiculous. 

"Take it from an old villain like me, my dear," William would tell him, on their customary strolls around the campus, "it's not about winning the adulation of the crowd, it's about winning matches. Not one person out there is going to give you a Christmas card, let alone a championship. These are the same bloodthirsty swine who chant 'one more time' after Big E Langston pummels a man into jelly. If you really want them to cheer you, why not bring a guillotine to the ring?" 

He was right, of course, but it was of little comfort to Aiden now that he had tasted the heady nectar of an appreciative crowd backing his pugilistic persuits. He yearned for roses. 

On one of many dreary days at the Performance Center - and oh, that there should be such a thing for Aiden English, in a place bearing the noble name of "Performance!" - Aiden was loitering backstage, consoling himself with a heartfelt and deeply moving rendition of "Nobody Knows the Trouble I've Seen," when he felt a presence behind him. Upon turning he encountered a man, dark haired and formidably built, smiling as though he hadn't a care in the world.

"Who the Devil are you?"

The impeccably mustachio'd apparition merely smiled and offered his hand. Aiden was knocked for a loop, his normal poise deserting him entirely as he stammered out fragments of questions. In leiu of an answer, the man simply turned and strode a few paces away to uproot one of the massive metal constructions that served as set dressing. He returned with it slung over his shoulder, presenting his prize to Aiden with the proud air of a terrier with a kill. 

"Wait, who-" But the man was already gone, taking his trophy with him. Still, Aiden couldn't help but smile, feeling, for the first time in months, the the winter snow slough off his heart. That first meeting was so singular, Aiden would later suppose, that it could hardly help but be auspicious. 

When, on the following day, he recounted the incident, William was not so bemused as Aiden had anticipated. "Ah, you must have met young Simon!" he cried, as though this explained everything. 

"Simon? Then you know this... fellow?" 

"I'm an old friend of the family. Simon Gotch is an absolutely first class strong man, like his father and grandfather before him. Well known on all the carnival circuits."

At the name Gotch, Aiden stopped short. "Gotch? He isn't-"

William smiled. "Perhaps a distant cousin, dear." 

They walked through the sunny campus, talking of other things for a while. But as they came to the little decorative pond that marked the end of their journey, Aiden found himself once again reflecting on his encounter with the fascinating Simon Gotch. 

"Does Gotch patronize the theatre?" he asked, thinking suddenly of the tickets in his breast pocket.

"I don't know, dear. I'm sure he would enjoy one of _your_ performances."

"It just so happens I will be starring in a new production opening this weekend." With a flourish, he produced the tickets and offered them to William. "Sunday, as always. I meant to let you choose your own plus one, but would you mind inviting Gotch along with you? As a welcome to NXT." William thanked him graciously and seemed entirely charmed by this uncharacteristic gesture of hospitality towards a fellow competitor. 

Aiden floated through the hours until the Sunday matinee, bouyed by anticipation. The play itself was a grim affair, attaining an entirely pedestrian awfulness while never soaring to the glorious heights of the truly memorable fiasco. Nevertheless, Aiden knew that his performance in the leading role, like the discovery of a gleaming jewel in a gravel quarry, lent a semblance of artistic value to the entire production. It had been the director who had decided to salt the mine, so to speak, and Aiden had taken the part as a personal favor to her, as well as a challenge to himself. 

The Friday and Saturday night audiences had been more appreciative than the philistines at Full Sail at least, though not so enthusiastic as his brilliant efforts warranted. Sunday was another matter entirely. Aiden, though it was his habit to mentally catalog the reactions of each new audience to his performaces, carefully filing them away for future study and reflection, could not for the life of him recall how the Sunday public at large recieved "Never Been a Right Time to Say Goodbye." His attention was entirely captured by the clarion call of "Bravissimo!" cutting through the audience's applause in a pleasant light baritone. It was Simon Gotch, standing beside William Regal and applauding heartily. Almost assuredly the rest of the crowd must have joined them in a standing ovation, for even the NXT Universe would have risen to their hind legs on the example of two such paragons. But Aiden found he only had eyes for Simon, dressed in his Sunday best and carefully cradling a single red rose in the crook of his elbow as he clapped. 

William, being both a man of the world and a gentleman to the core, was possessed of sufficient insight and discression as to gently excuse himself from their previous dinner engagement, pleading a wifely commandment. The two young grapplers were thus left to their own devices, free to plot their own course through the horse latitudes of a lazy Sunday afternoon. As Simon had arrived in Orlando less than a week prior, it was up to Aiden to take up the charts and compass. 

His first notion was to steer them to the park, where they could formulate further plans over a leisurely stroll. However, before they had walked more than a quarter of the way there his attention was arrested by a window display containing a handsome, silver bicycle built for two. A sign proclaimed it available for rental. Turning to his companion, Aiden said, "You know, there are some excellent roads for cycling around here, though I've never tried on one of these. Have you any experience in taming the two-seated velocipede, Simon?" 

Smiling, Simon produced from his waistcoat pocket a golden locket affixed to a chain, as one might attach a pocket watch. Inside the locket, on the left half of the diptych, a pretty young lady sporting a bloomer suit and a beard that even the great Madame Olga would envy straddled a bicycle with a little bright eyed infant peeping out of the basket. On the right, three uniformed school children, two girls and a boy, sat astride the back of a huge elephant. "My mother has an uncommon enthusiasm for bicycles. I've been one of her dutiful stokers - the other two being my sisters - since I could reach the pedals, and before that I was equally dutiful cargo. If you cycle on your own, I'm sure we could manage this beauty between the two of us." 

"Then I propose we take advantage of the long, midsummer day with a scenic ride and a picnic dinner."

"A capital suggestion!" cried Simon. "Excelsior!"

With a delighted laugh, Aiden responded in kind, and together they set about procuring the necessary supplies for their adventure, beginning with the bicycle built for two, a pair of helmets \- the hell they would catch if word got back to Mr. Helmsley that they had gone without did not bear considering - and two pairs of bicycle clips to secure their trouser cuffs from harm. 

They then turned to the matter of provisions for their picnic, first by purchasing a basket, then by pedaling from market to market piling it high with sumptuous treats that struck their fancy. With Aiden at the helm, they visited a co-operative which CJ Parker had on several occasions recommended to him. There, they found ripe, red strawberries, fresh cheese and honey from a goat named Moonbeam and a beehive named Aldo, and much admirtion for their bicycle. From a bakery Aiden knew was grudgingly frequented by Sylvester Lefort, they purchased a still warm baguette; from a wine shop much lauded by Sasha Banks, a bottle of sparking rose.

As they shopped, Aiden settled comfortably into telling Simon about their colleagues, never sparing a moment's consideration for the wisdom of imparting such information to a fellow competitor. The idea that they should, by the very nature of their profession, come into opposition would have struck him as tragic had such a thought even occured to him, but such a thought never did. They fell into their alliance with as much ease and as little fanfare as the crystals of a snowflake fall into symmetey, a little spark of spontaneous harmony. 

Once satisfied with their basket of delights, they struck out for the countryside. The weather was clement, the landscape was picturesque, and their conversation had turned to tag team wrestling, contructing elaborate fantasies of strategy and athleticism as they struggled up hills and all but flew down them again. They had just about figured their way into a number one contendership, though how they would unseat the Ascension sill eluded them, when Simon cried, "Aiden, look! On the left." 

The object of Simon's excitement was immediately apparent. To their left was a sunny hill crowned with a circle of shade trees, like a mushroom fairy ring writ large. It was the perfect spot to stop for dinner. They dismounted the bicycle with a fluid ease that belied their short term of acquaintance and, walking it with them, climbed the grassy slope to the center of the ring of trees. Once there, they sprawled on the grass like children, looking up at the canopy of leaves together, passing each other tidbits snagged from the picnic basket. 

Eventually, the wine was gone, and the light filtering through the leaves above them was tinged with pink. Their ride home was spent largely in companionable silence, admiring the land they had passed made new again by the light of the sunset. Once they had returned the bicycle to its shop, there came the realization that their respective abodes were located in opposite directions from their present location. Aiden, being more familiar with the city, offerred to accompany Simon the rest of the way and Simon, once assured that it was no hardship, readily accepted. Arm in arm, they talked more of the tag team they would be, alighting on the name "Vaudevillains" in a joyful blaze of inspiration. Even as they exchanged fond farwells, Aiden still basked in the lingering sensation of the kiss Simon had pressed to his temple with a cry of "my dear Aiden, you _are_ a wordsmith!" 

First thing to tomorrow, they had promised, they would meet in the Performance Center. Tomorrow, they would request their first match as a team, try those moves they had discussed so avidly on their ride in the country, set the wheels of their plans to turning. Did he wall home or fly? His steps felt so light that Aiden could believe either just as well. He collapsed into bed, exhilaration melting into a heavy contentment. A good night's rest and a busy day tomorrow with Simon at his side. Savoring the thought, Aiden slipped into sleep with a smile on his face.


End file.
